


nobody forgotten

by thisissirius



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 06:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9980207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisissirius/pseuds/thisissirius
Summary: Robert reaches for his ring first and pauses.It’s gone.He lets out a breath. “Don’t panic, it has to be here.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> written for the **family** day of robronweek.
> 
> (prompted by someone at robron-headcanons and it wouldn't leave me alone!)

Aaron’s barrister is a _piece of shit._   
  
_That’s not fair,_ the rational part of Robert’s brain tells him, but Robert’s not in a rational mood. He doesn’t know where Aaron is, hasn’t heard from him since he walked out of the door, and he’s _worried_.   
  
Robert paces the length of the back room, running a hand over his face. He’s glad there’s nobody in the backroom this time; he doesn’t think he can take conversation right now. Liv’s left her jacket on the back of the chair, which means she’ll be complaining she’s cold when she gets home and will probably end up with pnuemonia. There’s also a pile of dishes in the sink from the oh so helpful pub dwelling folk.   
  
Robert snorts. He rolls up the sleeves off his shirt as he walks through to the kitchen. He might as well get them done, and he’s spending the day chasing up this appeal anyway, Nicola adamant she doesn’t want to hear from him until the next day at least. He doesn’t know what makes him take his ring off; he usually takes off his watch and then starts the washing up, but for some reason he doesn’t want to get his ring dirty, wants to keep it perfect.   
  
He slides it off his finger and puts it on the side, sighing as he starts to tackle the mountain of dishes.   
  
The sounds of Chas and someone else out in the pub catches his attention; they’re not usually so loud, but he thinks they can be forgiven under the circumstances. Everything feels off kilter, like the grounds going to be swept away from him at any moment. _Eighteen months down to twelve_ keeps ringing in the back of his head, like an unwanted reminder. He feels guilty and sick to his stomach; he told Aaron so many times that it would be okay, that it would be weeks, two months at most, and he _lied_.   
  
Now there’s Liv and Chas, the pub and Home James, there’s the scrapyard and everything else Aaron left behind. Like Robert. Except Robert doesn’t have the luxury of breaking. He wants to, oh does he want to, but he’s clinging to the last vestiges of being strong because it’s what Aaron and his family need.   
  
When he’s done with the dishes, the last of the bowls drying on the draining board, Robert wipes his hands on the tea towel, satisfied with a job well done. He reaches for his ring first and pauses.   
  
It’s gone.  
  
Robert lets out a breath. “Don’t panic, it has to be here.”  
  
The thing is, the sink drain isn’t big enough to lose a ring through, but Robert checks it anyway, his heart beating double-time in his chest. He feels panic well up as he shoves stuff aside on the counter. Maybe his ring rolled away, or he moved it, or something else happened, but it has to be there.   
  
He can’t see, his vision’s blurring in the corners, and he can’t stop panicking. His chest is tight, everything feels too much. He’s lost it, he’s lost his ring, his connection to Aaron. He feels sick, a sudden rush of nausea that has him racing from the kitchen. In his panic he doesn’t bother heading for the stairs, but bangs into the pub and out the back door, barely reaching the toilet bowl before he loses what little breakfast he managed to eat.   
  
Robert’s breathing seems to get worse and he digs his nails into his thighs as he retches again, can’t stop crying. He feels too hot, too much, and he can’t believe he’s done this, can’t believe he lost his ring. He doesn’t want to think about the disappointment on Aaron’s face when he has to tell him, or the sadness, or any of the other million expressions Robert’s mind is helpfully supplying.   
  
He hates this, doesn’t know what to do, and he throws up again. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and falls back, head resting against the cubicle door and he starts crying, can’t stop the huge sobs wracking his body. His chest heaves and he has to bury his head on his knees, clench his hands into fists.   
  
He wants Aaron.   
  
“Rob—”  
  
Robert thinks he knows the voice, but he can’t make it out, can’t stop crying even though he wants to. Shame burns through him, and he tries, he really tries, but he can’t stop.   
  
There’s the sound of a door banging shut, raised voices, and then a familiar pair of high heels clicking through to the toilet.   
  
“Oh, love.”  
  
There are hands on his head, pulling him close and Robert wants to resist, hates being so weak, but whoever it is doesn’t let him.   
  
“Come on, Rob, it’s okay.”  
  
It’s not, but Robert can’t make himself say it.   
  
There’s a kiss pressed to his head and it just makes it worse, he shakes, fingers clutching at a blouse. Chas, he thinks, it’s _Chas_.   
  
“Chas, I can’t—”  
  
“Sssh.” Chas leans her head against his, lets him cry.   
  
It hurts. Robert’s not used to it, not this, not having someone hold him that isn’t Aaron. He’s not used to that motherly tone, the kisses to his head, the soothing hand rubbing at his arm. His heart breaks and he turns his face, buries it in her shoulder.   
  
Chas holds him until his crying has mostly stopped. He struggles to get his breathing under control, uses the hand she has on his arm to ground himself.   
  
“I lost my ring,” he says, hating how small and sad he sounds.   
  
“What?” Chas pulls back a little stares down at him.   
  
“I was washing up and I took it off because I wanted to keep it clean but now I can’t find it.” Robert swallows thickly, can’t bear to look at Chas. He’s ashamed, sad and guilty. “I can’t let him down.”  
  
There’s the sound of a door closing again, but Robert can’t focus on that, focuses instead on his bare finger, on the loss. He hadn’t realised how much he needed it until now.   
  
Chas shifts until she’s sat down beside him, her arms still around his shoulders, his head still pillowed on her shoulder. “You listen to me, Robert Sugden. You haven’t let him down, do you understand?”  
  
“I told him he wouldn’t get years, Chas. I told him it would be okay and I lied and I don’t—”  
  
“Hey,” Chas’ voice is firm, and she forces him to look her in the eye. Her mascara’s smudged, and she looks so sad. Robert tries not to feel guilty about that too, tries to focus on the honesty in her face. “He knew. You have to know that he knew. He was trying to be strong for you.”  
  
“I thought — I honestly thought he would be home soon.”  
  
“I know.” Chas sounds sad, but she presses another kiss to Robert’s head and he doesn’t feel so guilty. “It’ll pass before you know it, okay? You have family, Robert. They’re all here to help and you don’t have to do this alone.”  
  
“I feel like I do, like I owe it to Aaron.”  
  
Chas sighs softly, squeezes Robert’s arms. “The only thing you Aaron is to take care of yourself, and to be here when he gets out. He’s going to need that.”  
  
It helps, surprisingly. Robert lets out slow breaths, tries to get himself under control. He lets himself have this, just for a moment. He and Chas are better, actually, and he feels selfish; it’s been a long time since he’s had someone mother him, since he’s felt that want for a mother.   
  
“Thanks,” Robert says, voice gravelly as he swipes at his face. He pulls away, but Chas keeps a hand on his arm. “Sorry.”  
  
“Don’t be,” Chas tells him softly. “You’re allowed to cry, Robert. You’re allowed to ask for help.”  
  
“Can’t promise I will,” Robert says, trying for a smile.   
  
Chas gives him a weak one in return, worry still obvious on her face. “I’ll keep an eye on you.”  
  
Robert — actually likes the sound of that, but tries not to let on that it does. He stares down at his left hand, feels the panic again. “I need to find my ring, Chas, I can’t—”  
  
The door opens again, and Cain’s in the doorway, looking uncertain, but it’s what’s in his hand that catches Robert’s attention.   
  
“My ring,” he breathes, and snatches it out of Cain’s hand, sliding it onto his finger. He falls back against the wall, rolls his head to look up at Cain. “Sorry. For snatching.”  
  
“Think you can be forgiven, love,” Chas says, tapping his knee.   
  
Cain snorts, leans against the doorjamb. “Maybe look on the floor next time.”  
  
Robert closes his eyes, feels like a fool. He hadn’t bothered to check there at all, and now they’re going to think he’s stupid or that he can’t take care of himself, can’t handle this.   
  
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.” Chas leans in, curls a hand around the back of his neck and Robert’s embarrassed about how easy it is to lean into it. Chas gives him a softer smile this time. “You talk to me next time, yeah?”  
  
Robert doesn’t answer, doesn’t know how to.  
  
“Rob,” Cain says, and Robert’s head snaps up. At the expression on Cain’s face, Robert nods quickly, relieved at Cain’s satisfied nod.  
  
It’s weird, having this extended family, but he likes it, thinks maybe he can ask for help, _wants_ to ask for help.  
  
Somewhere, Aaron’ll think the sky is falling. 

(Thinking that doesn't hurt as much as Robert's expecting, and maybe that's a good thing. Maybe asking family is alright, Aaron'll be proud of him for that.)


End file.
